Whelp
by bittersweetnolonger
Summary: In a traditional corner of the province, a girl dreams of untraditional adventures until vampires threaten her home.


**A one-shot I wrote for someone on tumblr, who simply requested I write about the Companions. Please leave a review! -K**

As a little girl, my father told me stories of dragons and vampires, Daedra and the Black Brotherhood. My favorite stories though, had been of the Dragonborn.

Fierce he was, my father used to say. He was taller than any Elf, and so fierce that he held a greatsword in one hand. But his sword wasn't like any other sword, for it was enchanted with the soul of a Daedric Prince he'd slain, and he could speak the Dragon tongue. He Shouted the dragons' own Words back at them, bringing them down with their power as he absorbed their souls.

My father told tales of how the Dragonborn saved us from Alduin, the Eater of Worlds. Everyone else scoffed at my father's tales.

"Stop filling her head with bunk and horse shit!" The fruit vendor would scoff.

"Girls don't need such bloody tales." The old woman in the tavern said.

"She's going to be a woman someday. She'll have a babe in her arm, not a sword." Those were my mother's words, and they were the words that rang home. Mother had said that late one night after father had tucked me into bed with another story to give me dreams of battles long ago fought.

"Elaine, she's my daughter too. And you know what the healer said. You can't have another child or risk dying. I need someone to help me in the fields-"

"What good will stories of hobgoblins and dragons do for mucking around in the cabbages? " My mother had hissed.

"She needs a dream to smile for when she's out there! Something that can give her hope!"

"Hope! The only thing she should hope for is for one of the Jarl's stable boys to take a fancy to her! Someone with an income and station!"

My parents argued long that night. But my mother's words haunted my dreams for years to come.

The next day I ran down to the stables to get a look at the boys who my mother hoped would like me. I felt horrified by the scrawny pimple-faced youths my mom wanted for my future. I had imagined someone like the Dragonborn, strong and courageous. These youths poked each other with flimsy sticks, laughing coarsely about jokes much too stupid.

That night I cried, because I didn't want to marry someone like that. I wanted to marry a hero, or better yet, be the hero.

Years went by. My father stopped telling me stories, and I helped in the cabbage field. Once a week, I went with my mother into the village and sold our vegetables. When the boys of the village came to leer at me and send coarse compliments my way, I pretended to be flattered as my mother watched with approval. Unfortunately, I grew into such a fine looking woman that all the boys came to flirt with me, and ignored all the other girls. And all the girls in town hated me, and when they did speak to me, it was harsh and cruel.

At night, I still dreamed of the Dragonborn. I dreamed of escaping the village and going on adventures and slaying dragons. Often, I'd watch the town guards practice at swordplay. Late at night, I'd go out into the barn with a shovel and try to mimic what I'd seen.

When townsfolk started dying, we grew worried. We'd find them pale and drained of blood. Vampires had not been seen in this part of Skyrim for decades, and anyone who knew how to fight a vampire had long since died.

One morning, we found a notice nailed to my family's vegetable stand in town saying that once a month, a person's life was forfeit as tax to the vampires, who now ruled the province.

Once my father saw the notice, he saddled our pony, saying he was going to Whiterun.

"The Companions still take residence there, and surely one will come and save us." My breath hitched. The Companions! Father had told me stories of the brave Companions, loyal and fierce to Skyrim.

"Whiterun is a fortnight's ride, but I may be able to find a faster horse along the way. Promise me, you will stay safe until my return." Father said, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Yes father." I nodded.

"Look after your mother, tend the fields, and don't go out at night. Don't answer the door for anyone after sundown." With that, my father kicked the pony into a gallop and rode off.

But my promise could not be kept. The summer solstice had already passed; daylight was precious and all the things that had to be done could not be confined to the shortened hours.

It was nearing the end of my father's fortnight to Whiterun, and I was returning to the house after loading up the day's harvest in the cart for market. The sun had been down about an hour, and the walk from the cart to the door was not more than three yards, when I heard voices.

"That is a lovely one, she is."

"Indeed. I think we've found the tax."

My heart hammered, and I bolted for the door. If I could get inside, everything would be fi-

Hands as cold as winter grabbed me, and darkness closed over me.

Dawn woke me, and I was in a cage. I was in the town center, and people were staring from doorways in horror at me. A man in fine clothes stepped out and shouted for all to hear, "See this fine young woman has volunteered to be this month's tax, to spare you all! But beware, should any person mistake themselves for heroes and try to save this fine lady, the tax shall triple." All day, every hour, this traitor to beating hearts shouted the announcement of my "brave sacrifice".

Hate burned in my heart at his lies. I wondered how much the vampires were paying this poor fool. Perhaps it was the promise of the bite of immortality. I pitied him for being so misguided as to think they would spare him. One day, when his use ran out, I knew he'd be naught but collateral damage.

Taxes were collected at the end of the month, so the vampires wouldn't come for me for another week. The day toiled on. Few people left their houses. Two of the young men who used to stare at me with such hunger walked past my cage and did not look at me. They kept their eyes glued to the dirt, ashamed and terrified they had been attracted to vampire meal.

The next day, I saw one of the girls who'd mocked me watching me from her mother's shop window. There was the same hate from before, now mixed with fear.

I watched the town from my cage, saw their fear. No one spoke of my father, gone now for almost a month, in desperate hope of finding a hero. No one spoke of my mother, who'd locked herself in the house in her grief. Most of all, no one spoke of me. The girl they all knew sold vegetables on Saturdays, and believed in Dragonborn and Alduin. The girl who was being sent to her death.

The last day of the month came, and no one came outside. No one left their house, or opened their blinds. No one peered out of windows, and no one whispered.

I had always thought going to your death would be noisy; dragon roars and women weeping. This was much more terrifying. No sounds but the whine of the breeze.

I had a blanket in the cage. Not the thickest or warmest, but it kept out most of the wind. I wrapped it around my shoulders, curled up against the corner of the cage, and fell asleep. As I drifted off to sleep, a single tear rolled down my cheek. My father had not gotten to Whiterun in time, and I was going to die. Now, my only prayer was that even though I was to die, a hero would come and kill the vampires and no one else would die.

"_Why does she look sick?"_

"_Ah, my lady… She has been in the town square the past week."_

"_Did you not care for her?"_

"_She was fed gruel nicer than what most prisoners receive."_

"_That means nothing if her blood is infected. You d_a_m_n _f_ool!" The harsh slap that followed brought the last dregs of consciousness. My eyes were crusted shut from tears, but I forced them open. The well-dressed man who'd announced my sentence as tax lay unconscious on the floor, and there was… someone standing over him.

I'd never seen anyone like him. His clothes were finer than even the Jarl's. Dark rich velvets and furs were his clothes, and while he looked young, he was gaunt as if he hadn't eaten in a week. I could see his nails were long, and covered in blood.

Panic stole over me. This was the vampire who now controlled the province. My life was forfeit… to _him_.

"She's awake." A woman spoke from somewhere above me.

Akatosh, have mercy.

The male vampire stopped inspecting his bloody nails and turned towards me. His thin white lips curled in a malicious smirk.

"We must give the Silver Hand credit though. He did pick a lovely one for us." The hidden woman spoke. Without taking his eyes off me, the vampire shrugged.

"She's been starved for a week. She'll hardly suffice." He declared. A woman glided down from somewhere in the darkness and stared at me hard.

"Nonsense. If you won't have her, I will." Her smile was hunger as she watched me back as far as I could into the corner of the cage.

Any of the courage I'd had as a little girl, dreaming of the Dragonborn and grand adventures, failed me in that moment. A vampire was approaching me with the intent of killing me, and I had no heroes, no sword, no strength of will to save me. I was going to die the weak maiden my mother had wanted me to be.

As the woman opened the cage door the most awful sound ripped through the cavern. For a moment, I thought a dragon was knocking down the door, but then… _something _broke through, and I wanted to scream.

A werewolf. A real, live werewolf was here. Of all the stories my father had told me, the werewolves had been my least favorite. They seemed the most fake of all my bedtime tales. A man that could sprout fur, grow claws, and gain five feet in height? I had snorted the first time my father told me the story.

But now, a werewolf was here, with saliva dripping from its maw and bloody hate in its eyes. The two vampires hissed in rage at the intruder, and suddenly their skin was growing ashen and – were those _wings_ sprouting from their backs?

If I'd still had the coherency of thought, I would have been grateful that I'd been fed so little for the past week, otherwise I surely would have vomited at the gruesome carnage occurring before my eyes.

The vampire that had been a man flew at the werewolf, his hands glowing red with a strange spell. The woman vampire lengthened her fingernails into claws that looked more like blades, and came at the werewolf from behind.

The werewolf turned and faced the woman vampire. The werewolf ducked as the vampire tried to run it through, and then stood up and closed its jaws around the vampire's jugular. With a bloody maw, the werewolf threw the dead vampire, now reverting back into the form of a woman back towards the male, still flying towards it.

The male batted away the corpse and kept moving forward. He raised a hand and cast the strange red spell on the werewolf.

The wolf bent over and howled in pain. Whatever the spell was, it was causing an extreme amount of pain. And somehow, the werewolf managed to raise its head and snarl at the vampire. The vampire growled out a wordless challenge in reply, and just continued its spell. In a corner of my mind, I recognized how unfair it was to not face the werewolf in hand to hand combat. Magic had always been cheating to me.

The werewolf growled and forced itself to run out of the range of the vampire's spell. The vampire snarled in anger at the werewolf's determination and moved closer to try and cast the spell again. The werewolf had moved out of range, and then started sprinting at the vampire. The vampire cast its spell again, and the werewolf slowed in pain, but then shook its head and kept running, refusing to be beaten down again.

The vampire realized this, and flapped its wings, trying to get away. The vampire moved too late; the werewolf had reached him and tore off his head with one swipe of its claws.

The werewolf howled in victory, the corpses of the two vampires lying at its feet. I covered my ears, and shut my eyes, wishing I could be anywhere. But more than that, I wished I was strong enough to have faced the vampires myself, and to face this werewolf that surely would kill me now.

"Hey, kid, it's alright. Get up, it's all over." My eyes snapped open. Slowly, I raised my head and a woman was there, at my cage. Startled, I looked around; where was the werewolf? This woman… no, she couldn't possibly be…

"Yes, I'm a werewolf. Stop gawking. You have tits as well under that tunic." My eyes dropped down in embarrassment. This woman had the lines in her face that made me believe her to be twenty years my elder, but beyond that face was a finer looking woman than I. I struggled for words with this bizarre woman.

"How… how did you know where we were?" I murmured, looking up at the woman's face. She frowned, and crossed her arms.

"To be honest, I'd been dispatched to deal with a rogue Silver Hand. I was three days out when I came across a man on a near dead horse. He said his town had been taken captive by vampires, and was on his way to Whiterun to beg for the assistance of the Companions.

"Coincidentally, the rogue Silver Hand was rumored to be in the same village, so I told the man that I'd go, and he could continue to Whiterun to talk business with the others, as it seemed there was no time to waste any longer. I spent most of my time in wolf skin, so that I might travel faster. Frightened a couple farmers on the way, but that sadly couldn't be helped." The woman declared as she examined the corpses.

"Wait, you're a Companion?" I asked, finding the strength to stand. The woman looked at me and nodded.

"Aye. Aela the Huntress, they call me." My mouth fell open in a dumb gape.

"You're _Aela_?" The woman, no, Aela the Huntress, stared hard at me with a frown at the corners of her mouth.

"Aye. And I'll gut you as well, if you don't like it." My mouth snapped back shut, and I stepped out of the cage waving my hands apologetically.

"No, no, no! You, I… My father, the man you found on the road. When I was little, he told me stories of the Companions. They were my favorite. Them, and the Dragonborn." I explained quickly. Aela smiled.

"Ah. I see. Quite peculiar for a young farmer's daughter to request stories like that. Wouldn't you rather hear stories of queens and fairies of Oblivion?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I always had wished I'd been born a boy, so that I might wield a sword and join the town guard, and someday travel to Whiterun and join the Companions." Aela threw her head back and laughed.

"A feisty child you must have been! But why didn't you just go and join anyways?" She asked, staring hard at me again.

"To be honest, all the stories of the women in the Companions… I thought my father made them up, just to give me something to smile about. Women here… they don't amount to more than a way for men to have sons." I admitted, hanging my head in defeat.

Because that's what I felt. The years of dreaming of dragons and women flying into battle, even leading men, had died. I really could do nothing but hope for some man who worked in the Jarl's keep to notice me, and find me fine enough to take for a wife.

Aela the Huntress scowled.

"You must have play fought as a child. Took a stick and swung it at an enemy?" She asked me. I nodded.

"Could usually swing it better than the stable boys." I admitted. That had been after my mother had said she wanted me to marry one of them. I had grabbed a good sturdy stick from the oak tree at the far edge of my father's field, then went to face the boys my mother hoped for me.

They had laughed at me. Told me a girl could never be any good in a fight. Their words had been cross, so I'd whapped the biggest boy on the head with my stick. He had seen it coming. Heroes never attack from behind. Heroes always attacked from the front, it was the most honorable thing to do. But he hadn't been able to raise his own stick in time. He cried, I could remember. He cried and blood had flowed from a gash on his head. The other boys gaped in wonder.

His cries had brought Keep guards, who'd looked at the situation and chuckled. Then they gave the stable boy a whap on the back for letting his guard down, a whap on the head for me for attacking, and then hauled me back to my mother, who whapped me many times for behaving in such an unbecoming manner.

Father had smiled though. Father had been proud of me. He had whispered that night after my story that someday, if he could save enough, he'd go to the smith and buy me a real sword. And I'd been so delighted.

But that was ten years ago, and now Aela the Huntress stared at me, considering hard.

"You're a regular whelp, but if you can prove to be fast on your feet and faster with a blade, you'd be a welcome member of the Companions." After years of lying useless in the corner of my soul, hope bloomed in my heart hot and fast, whooshing the air from my lungs.

"You- you mean it?" I choked out. Aela nodded slowly.

"Aye. I'm a Companion, and our word is everything." She responded. But in the back of my mind, the image of the bloody werewolf chilled my hope.

"But, will I… Are all the Companions…" I started. Aela shook her head.

"No. Only those of the Circle have beast blood in their veins. And not even all the Circle has it, not after the last Harbinger…" Aela's voice faded, grief flashing in her eyes for a moment. Then she looked back at me, with a fierce look in her eyes. "However, it is a secret kept only among the Circle, so you'd best keep your mouth shut, whelp." I almost fell to my knees.

"I swear! On… by… By my word, I swear to never speak of it!" Aela smirked.

"Well, whelp. You catch on quick, that much can be said. If your mind's made up, we'll start the journey back to Whiterun, and we can see the truth worth of your steel." She said, and started her way back to the door, collecting her clothes.

"But, I have no sword…" I admitted, ashamed. Aela turned to me slowly.

"Then we'll talk to a guard and take his. He'll be more than happy to continue the tradition of the Companions." Aela shrugged as she pulled on her leather slip and slung her bow across her chest.

"My… my family, my mother…"

"If the woman means so much, then don't come with me. It makes no difference. If not, you can see her again someday. Let's get moving." Aela snapped, and left. I ran after her. I had spent twenty years listening to my mother. It would continue no longer. I would go, and become a Companion, and live my own destiny.

True to her word, Aela went and told a towns guard to give me his sword, so that I might start training. He stuttered at first, until Aela shoved a small purse jingling with coin into his hand. He stopped stuttering, and looked at me curiously as we walked through the village. Aela loudly announced the vampires were gone, and to resume their lives.

The girls who had mocked me stared in wonder as I left at Aela's side. The boys who'd 'courted' me stared with their tongues lolling at all the lean muscle rippling under the white skin exposed by Aela's garb. They never once looked at me, and Aela never once paid them any attention.

When we finally arrived in Whiterun, my feet were aching, my back cramped up, and I had blisters covering my hands from sword practice. The shovel I'd used had been a decent start to training, but the shortsword now buckled to my hip was far heavier, and the balance of the blade made my shoulders scream in protest at every swing.

I hoped to sleep in a real bed once at Jorrvaskr, but upon entering, Aela yelled for Vilkas. The man called Vilkas stood from the table, and came forward. He was tall and imposing, and my heart leapt in fear at the huge greatsword strapped across his back.

"What is it, Aela? I'm trying to eat." He growled. Somehow, the low pitch and gravel of his voice was pleasing; it was infinitely finer sounding than the whines of the boys from my village.

Aela thumbed at me. "We have a new whelp. Take her out and test her strength while I summon the Harbinger." She declared. Vilkas eyed me suspiciously. Somehow, I felt a blush rising in my face at his inspection.

"Seriously, Aela? This girl? She's probably still a virgin too." His dismissal burned. My blush of embarrassment turned to anger.

"You ass. You take one look at me and declare me unfit? You don't know me, do not presume to know me!" I challenged, stepping forward with my hand on the hilt of my sword and my finger pointing in his face. The warrior stared at me impassively, then cracked a grin and laugh.

"You got nerve, I'll give you that. Fine. Aela, go summon the Harbinger. I'll take the whelp out and test her strength." I felt pride flush in my chest. The Companions had no leader, took no true commands. By refusing Vilkas' judgment, I'd shown I did have the will of a warrior, and belonged here.

In the training yard, Vilkas unsheathed his massive greatsword and turned to me.

"Alright, whelp, let's see what you got." My mind went blank with terror. He was coming at me, his greatsword gleaming in the sunlight.

_Shit._ Was my only thought. I dove out from under the swing of Vilkas' blade, unsheathed my sword, and watched as Vilkas turned and charged me again.

_You must fight him. Show your strength. If you do not, you'll fail. You'll have to go home. All your dreams will be gone. _I spread my legs into a stronger stance, gripped my sword with both hands, and swung and met Vilkas' blade.

Nine divines, he was _strong_. I broke away, and saw Vilkas swing again. No. I raised my sword and cried out as I swung with all my strength. Again and again, I swung at Vilkas, the words _do not fail _ ringing in my ears as he parried my every swing.

Eventually, Vilkas staggered and said, "Enough." Wiping sweat from his brow, he looked at me and grinned.

"Not bad. Haven't been tested that well by a whelp since the last time Aela brought home a stray." He laughed.

"Head back in, whelp. By now, the Harbinger will be waiting to take a look at you." My heart hammered in my chest. The Harbinger. I was going to meet the Harbinger of the Companions.

My legs turned to lead as I walked in. What would I say? Akatosh, I hoped I didn't stammer. Inside, Aela was leaning on a chair. She motioned me forward, and then turned to the man sitting beside her. My heart completely stopped. The horned helmet, the arms so large they could wrap around a dragon's head, the blonde hair of a true Nord, the mouth strong enough to speak a Thu'um… I knew who this man was. My father had told me of this brave man…

"Whelp, this is the Harbinger. He is the wisest and strongest of us, chosen by Kodlak, Harbinger before him. Most of us call him whelp as well, but most in Whiterun call him…" I cut Aela off, my voice a whisper in awe.

"_Dovakhiin." _


End file.
